


Music

by ddelusionall



Category: JYJ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bars and Pubs, M/M, Sex, Teacher-Student Relationship, bit of a moral dilemma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-13
Updated: 2010-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:47:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23929420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddelusionall/pseuds/ddelusionall
Summary: Yoochun meets one of his students outside of class.
Relationships: Kim Junsu (JYJ)/Park Yoochun
Kudos: 1





	Music

**Author's Note:**

> I am importing my stories from LiveJournal. The original fic can be found [here](https://be-ddelusionall.livejournal.com/).
> 
> I haven't read this story in a long time, so I may have missed some tags. Just let me know if I did.

“Well, hello, Professor Park.”

Yoochun jerked in surprise and stared at the bartender. Kim Junsu, bane of his Tuesday night musical composition class. He sat in the back, spent half the time playing on his phone and the other half staring at Yoochun with a quirky smile on his face. It unnerved him, but no matter how irritating it was, Yoochun always found his eyes drawn to the red-headed kid.

If the kid wasn’t a musical genius, Yoochun would have made an excuse to get him kicked out of class.

“Kim Junsu, you work here?”

The corner of Junsu’s lip twitched up into that quirky smile. “It helps pay for your outrageously expensive class. What can I get for you?”

Yoochun swallowed, and forced out the name of a drink.

“Sure thing, Professor.”

“Call me Yoochun, please. We’re not in class.”

Yoochun wasn’t sure what possessed him to say that, but the laugh that escaped Junsu’s mouth made it worth it.

“Sure thing, Yoochun-shi. Or should I call you hyung?” Junsu dropped his elbows to the bar and leaned his face in his hands. The smile on his face now was a tiny bit creepy. A little pleasure jolted through Yoochun’s body.

“Whichever.”

Junsu licked his lips. “Awesome, hyung.” He turned around and headed to the alcohol. Yoochun watched him. During class, Junsu always dressed nicely: slacks, button down shirts, ties. Tonight though, he wore a pair of tattered, low-slung jeans that molded to his ass. A blue t-shirt stretched over his shoulders and bunched around his tiny waist.

Yoochun’s mouth went dry.

Junsu caught him staring and grinned. When a pink tongue darted out to lick lips, Yoochun looked away, skin heating.

God, what the hell was wrong with him? The kid was his student.

“Here you go, hyung.” Junsu set the drink on the bar. “Let me know if you want anything else.” He raised a suggestive eyebrow, and then laughed again when Yoochun stammered his thanks.

Just like in class, Yoochun’s eyes were drawn to him, this time he spent more time staring at Junsu’s ass than at his face. No matter how harshly he reprimanded himself, he found Junsu’s ass in his field of vision. God, it was … perfect. Most men had nothing, but Junsu … he could see himself gripping onto those round globes and never letting go.

Junsu brought him another drink. And a wink, before sauntering away again.

When Yoochun needed a distraction from an uncooperative song, a gorgeous ass wrapped in tight jeans was not what he meant. He should have just watched TV.

“You want another one?” Junsu asked, leaning on the bar again with his enigmatic smile.

Yoochun shook his head. “I shouldn’t have had the first one.”

“Anything else you want?”

There was absolutely no doubt on what Junsu just offered. The tone, his smile, the slight raise of eyebrows.

“I-I don’t t-think that’s appropriate.”

“Are you saying that how you’ve been staring at me is?”

“No. It’s not.”

“Why? It’s like you said, hyung. We’re not in class.”

Yoochun stood up and pulled out his wallet. He handed Junsu twice the amount the two drinks were worth. “I’ll see you on Tuesday, Junsu.”

Junsu frowned.

And Yoochun turned away before the kid could say anything. He went home and jerked off.

-♥-

Junsu was late to class on Tuesday. Yoochun snapped out his lecture for the first fifteen minutes of class. He’d been irritated anyway, spending the weekend thinking of Junsu’s eyes and smile and ass. His body in various states of undress. Some nights, Yoochun could almost feel Junsu’s hand on his skin. And then the kid had the nerve to be late.

“Sorry, Professor,” Junsu muttered when he slipped into the door. He bowed and maneuvered to his seat in the back.

Good fuck, he was wearing jeans. Black jeans, deep red shirt. Yoochun had to school his features and go to the podium to cover his sudden inability to speak. When he looked back at his class, his eyes went to Junsu’s smile.

Fuck.

With as much determination as he could muster, Yoochun continued his lecture on incorporating emotions into music.

“Professor?”

“Yes, Junsu?”

“So are you saying that music based on emotions isn’t good?”

“Of course not. I’m saying that without the integral elements of musical form, emotionally based music is chaotic. It’s not that it isn’t good, it’s that it isn’t marketable. And similarly, music that is only based on integral elements tends to be boring. It’s up to the composer to find that perfect balance.”

“Which do you think is better then? Starting with pure feelings and adding the elements or starting with control and adding feelings?” Junsu was grinning.

Yoochun frowned. “I guess it depends on the situation.”

“What do you start with when you find yourself in situations?”

 _Damn you, kid._ Yoochun shook his head. “I find that starting with emotions is easier. The music is less forced, and lyrics tend to flow better.”

Junsu nodded. When the rest of the class had focused back on Yoochun, Junsu licked his lips and winked.

Yoochun cleared his throat. “We’ll listen now to two different compositions. These are both instrumental tracks because lyrics can be distracting. Listen for those integral elements we talked about last week, and then we’ll discuss them in terms of emotions.”

This was the first time Yoochun had shared any of his music in class. He hit the button on the computer. Most students shut their eyes as the beginning chords from a piano echoed around the room. Yoochun met Junsu’s eyes again.

The lyrics of the song flew through Yoochun’s mind. He realized that he’d been mouthing them.

Junsu cocked his head and then mouthed, “You wrote this.”

Yoochun nodded once.

When the song ended, Yoochun didn’t trust his voice, so he started the next one. It was a pop song that he hated and more than one student smiled widely and danced along.

“Try to forget the lyrics,” Yoochun said as the song played. “We’re supposed to be concentrating on form and emotions.”

He played the songs again and then led a discussion. Most students agreed that the first song was more expressive while the second seemed to lack something. But both had all the makings of a good song.

To Yoochun’s annoyance, Junsu pulled out his phone half way through the discussion.

And then about ten minutes later, there was a derisive scoff from the back of the room.

“Care to elaborate, Junsu?” Yoochun asked.

“The first song was good, flawed in all the right ways, and the second song sucks.”

Those students that liked the second song glared at him.

“Do you mind putting your phone down for a moment and explaining that?”

Junsu rolled his eyes and looked up from his phone. “You picked two that had similar beats, similar arrangements. Even note choices were similar, but any discussions are moot because we know the lyrics to the second song. All our opinions are being biased because we know what the song ‘means’. We have no such liberties with the first song.”

“So discuss the first song, then. You said it was flawed. How?”

“Too much emotion. Just by listening to the pianist, you can hear how the keys are hit harder during the bridge and the last verse. Whoever played that song really connected to it. Of course, as musicians, it’s what we want. We want our music to make other people feel enough to play it like that first one. As consumers, we want mediocrity.”

“So?”

Another eye roll. “Until I know the lyrics of the first song, I can’t make any judgments.”

“We’re supposed to be concentrating on emotions.”

“I know, but again, we’re biased. We know the lyrics to the second song. It’s clouding some judgment.”

“Has it?”

“Yes, because everyone’s comment about the second song has been about the lyrics, not the music. The music is standard, cookie cutter, pop music. Something someone churned out in order to make a deadline and get a pay check.”

“Again, so concentrate on the first song then. Stop comparing it to song number two.”

Junsu’s eyes shut with a sigh and he whispered, “It made my heart ache.”

“Why?”

“It just did.” His eyes went back to the phone.

Yoochun let out a harsh breath. “Any comments about Junsu’s thoughts?”

What followed was a discussion on the merits of song two, as most students found that his criticism of their favorite song a bit insulting.

Yoochun kept Junsu in the corner of his eye. He kept shaking his head in disgust.

“For next week, find two instrumental songs, and do the same that we did in class today. Both songs have to be similar in style, beat and arrangement. I want at least three pages discussing the differences in emotions. Send me an e-mail with an mp3 of both songs as well as a copy of your paper. I want a hard copy handed in at the beginning of class.”

The students shuffled out, many still discussing why Junsu was crazy. It made Yoochun smile, and then he realized that Junsu hadn’t left. He sat, chair back, one foot up on the desk, staring at Yoochun.

“That was all bullshit, hyung,” Junsu said after the last student had left.

“It’s in the curriculum. Take it up with the school board.”

“Why do you teach it when you know it’s shit?”

“It pays the bills.”

Junsu scoffed.

“Why are you in this class if you know it’s bullshit?” Yoochun countered.

“It’s required.”

Yoochun smiled and gathered up his notes. Junsu rose and came up to the desk.

“Why was the first song so emotional?”

Yoochun didn’t look up and continued to pack up his things, closing his laptop and wrapping the cords up.

“Are you going to share the lyrics?”

“No.”

Junsu sat on the edge of the desk. His phone was in his hands again.

“And you’re still here, why?” Yoochun asked.

“Aw, hyung. You make me feel so unwanted.”

Yoochun scoffed. “Seriously. Why?”

Junsu smiled at him slowly. “Talk music, talk emotions, talk form, talk technique, talk expletives and moans and …”

“No.”

“Why not? You and I both know that I’m too advanced for this class. Fuck, hyung, I may even be able to teach you a few things.”

Yoochun did not look at him. If he looked at Junsu, he’d fall into any trap the kid set.

But then fingers traced the bone on his wrist and he shivered before jerking away.

“Don’t, Junsu.”

“Why?”

“Because I can lose my job, that’s why.”

Junsu grinned and reached for him again. Yoochun dodged his hand and headed for the door. Footsteps fell behind him and then fingers snagged the back of his shirt.

“Don’t,” Yoochun repeated, but he still stopped.

“You want to.” Junsu’s hand settled against the small of his back.

“No, I don’t.”

“Ah, your emotions say otherwise.” Warmth radiated on his side, breath puffed on his neck.

“Yes, well, in this case, my common sense is winning.” He took a step forward, but Junsu’s arm encircled him and held him close.

Yoochun was gasping. Fingers pressed into his stomach and then up his chest. Junsu’s other hand took his briefcase and set it on the ground.

With lips brushing Yoochun’s earlobe, Junsu whispered, “Well, if you’d think with your emotions, it’d be easier. Less forced. Flow more. I wouldn’t have to work so hard.

Yoochun shook his head. “No.”

“No as in never, or no as in not here?”

Pull away from him. Now. Do it now. Yoochun’s eyes shut as Junsu’s other arm wrapped around his upper body. God it was nice to be held, nice to be wanted.

His common sense was screaming profanities at him now.

“Not here,” Yoochun finally whispered.

Junsu grabbed his hand and pressed something into it. Yoochun looked down.

Junsu’s phone, already open to a new contact listing, with his name.

“Tell me where,” Junsu said. He settled both hands at Yoochun’s hips and then barely pressed against him.

“Fuck,” Yoochun breathed. He entered his cell number and address into Junsu’s phone, and then yanked himself away.

Gasping, he handed the phone back. “Eleven.”

Junsu grinned.

Twisting away from his body, Yoochun ducked out of the classroom. He practically flew home. Tossing his briefcase in his room. He was a neat freak anyway, but still he cleaned, made sure the dishes were done. Changed the sheets on the bed. Straightened the CDs lying in piles near the bookshelf. Anything. Anything to keep from thinking of the lines he just crossed. The ones he’d destroy in about a half hour.

Half hour?

Fuck.

Yoochun ran to the bathroom and took the fastest shower he’d ever taken. He dressed simply, then changed and dressed casual chic, and then put on just sweats (he was going to end up naked anyway), and then dressed up, and then went back to simple. Jeans. Nice blue jeans, patterned t-shirt. Good. Good.

The doorbell rang at 10:56.

Yoochun shut his eyes, thought of not answering, but then realized he was already walking toward the door. With one last deep breath, he opened the door.

Junsu smiled widely at him.

Yoochun stared.

He was in loose jeans, hanging off his hips. A white tank top. Muscles. Skin. Silver glinting in his ears. And then hands were around his waist, lips against his. The door shut. Junsu’s tongue invaded his mouth. He shifted trying to kick off his shoes and pull Yoochun’s shirt over his head at the same time.

Yoochun broke away with a gasp.

“Where’s your bedroom?” Junsu demanded, and grabbed Yoochun’s arm before he could respond. They headed down the hall, Junsu leading the way.

Yoochun’s head was spinning. This was not how it was supposed to happen. He was supposed to greet the kid, offer him a drink … talk to him.

_Fuck, Yoochun. Get real. You offered him sex and that’s what he’s here for._

Junsu dragged him across his bedroom and flung him onto the bed. Hands grabbed the hem of his tank top and pulled it over his head. Junsu’s body was perfect. He had muscles everywhere. Shoulders, back, abs. His belly button was pierced.

Yoochun swallowed and licked his lips as Junsu unbuttoned his jeans and slid them over his ass.

“Fuck,” Yoochun gasped.

Junsu rolled his eyes. “Insert corny line about what we’re about to do here.”

Yoochun scoffed out a burst of laughter.

“Except you still have pants on.”

Junsu crawled over him, dick already hard. He unbuttoned Yoochun’s jeans. Yoochun lifted up enough for Junsu to pull them and his boxers off.

And then Junsu’s mouth was on his cock.

Yoochun arched up with a cry. He was hard in about three seconds, and Junsu hummed in appreciation as he licked up the length and across the tip.

“Oh, shit, Junsu.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Not. In. Class.”

Junsu laughed. “We should be. God, I would have loved to bend you over a desk earlier, but you had to go all moral on me.”

Yoochun may have agreed to that, but Junsu was tonguing the slit of his cock and coherent thoughts were in short supply.

God, Junsu sucked cock like he wrote music. Expressive, but to the point and concise. He hummed with Yoochun’s cock in the deepest part of his throat and then moaned as it slid out. Yoochun fisted the blankets, eyes shut as his hips rose and fell of their own accord.

A slick fingertip slid between his ass, and Yoochun gasped, shoulders lifting off the bed as it found what it was looking for and pressed into his body.

“Fuck,” Yoochun shouted.

He was dizzy as pleasure zinged through his body, twisting his muscles and blurring his head. His hands left the bed, only to fall into Junsu’s hair.

“Junsu, I’m, oh god.”

Junsu hummed again.

Yoochun’s body curled in, hands pulling Junsu’s hair as he came. Junsu made a noise of absolute delight and kept sucking. Yoochun flopped boneless back to the bed, breath harsh in the silence. Junsu was still fingering him, cock still sliding slowly in and out of his mouth. Yoochun was about to praise the kid, but he added a third finger (Yoochun had no idea when he’d added the second), and instead, Yoochun cried out.

Fingers buried deep, but still stretching Yoochun out, Junsu left his cock and kissed around his stomach. He dragged teeth over his hips, left little nips up his side. Yoochun arched up when Junsu’s tongue traced around his nipple. And then his fingers were gone and Yoochun had to breathe deep as his body continued to clench and vibrate.

“You okay there, Professor?” Junsu asked, laughter in his voice.

“No.”

“Hm, guess I better work harder, huh?”

Junsu kissed him, soft compared to the harshness of the hands running up and down his sides. Yoochun moaned into the kiss, his own hands wrapping around Junsu’s shoulder and then sliding down to his back. God and then finally, FINALLY, he caressed Junsu’s ass. His fingers dug into the mounds of flesh, their bodies pressed together, and they both moaned. Junsu broke the kiss and kneeled.

Yoochun whimpered.

“What?”

“I finally get to touch your ass and you take it away from me.”

Junsu smirked. “You can touch it later.” He ran his hands down Yoochun’s thighs and then pushed his knees up. Yoochun lifted his legs, knees bent. Junsu took a moment to appreciate the sight, and then held his cock against Yoochun’s hole. He may have prepared him, but Yoochun was still unbelievably tight.

Junsu’s eyes shut with the first push past the ring of muscle. Yoochun’s eyes crossed and he moaned. Junsu made shallow thrusts, moaning, falling over Yoochun’s body, hands on either side of his head as he pushed deeper into his body.

“Fuck,” Junsu muttered when he was finally completely inside him. “When was the last time you bottomed?”

“When was the last time you went more than ten minutes without making a sarcastic comment?”

Junsu laughed, and then he moved. Yoochun’s head flung back, his body arched. He lost hold on his legs and wrapped them around Junsu. Their bodies rose and fell together, their moans in cadence. Sweat slicked their skin. They searched for lips as one, kisses joining, breaths mingling. It was the meaning of life—for Yoochun anyway—to find someone that matched his body so well.

“God, Chunnie,” Junsu whispered. He held his body up with one hand, wrapped the other around Yoochun’s cock and stroked.

Yoochun arched and cried out. Quite suddenly he went from being content to having Junsu in his ass all day to being desperate to release the waves of pleasure coursing through his body.

“Fuck, Su.”

Yoochun came only moments later. Insistent pleasure ripping through him. Junsu’s name echoed around the room.

As soon as Yoochun’s breath settled, he grabbed Junsu by the neck and tugged him down for a kiss.

“You’re too good at his,” Yoochun said, lips brushing.

“A plus good or only A minus good?”

“You better be kidding.” Yoochun bit Junsu’s lower lip. He groaned, and then yanked away, kneeling again. He bent Yoochun’s legs, holding him by the knees and fucked him hard. Yoochun gasped, trying to raise his hips to meet Junsu’s thrusts.

With head flung back, skin taught, the grip on his thighs tightened, and Junsu came in shudders. Yoochun unbent as Junsu fell forward, their lips meeting again for tongue reaching kisses.

“I was kidding about the grade thing,” Junsu said, “but if the college ever decides to offer a sex course, I would get an A plus.”

“Yes, you would.”

“But I’d only sign up if you were the teacher.”

Yoochun met his eyes.

Junsu laughed. “Have you seen the other teachers in this school?” He shivered. “I don’t want to fuck any of them.”

“I don’t know,” Yoochun said. “That grad student, Siwon, the one that teaches Economics. He’s pretty good looking.”

“True.” Junsu sighed and rolled away. They both shivered when Junsu slipped out of Yoochun’s body. “So what happens now, Professor?”

Yoochun rolled his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Junsu propped up on an elbow and traced a finger around Yoochun chest, swirling through the come and spreading it up to his nipples. Yoochun shivered.

“Do I get dressed, say thank you and see you in class on Tuesday? Or …”

“Or what?”

“Do we take a shower, take a nap, have another round and then I let you make me breakfast in the morning?”

Yoochun made it look like he was thinking about it. He could get fired. Probably would if anyone found out, but they could talk about that later.

“We should do the first one. Do you have any idea how many parts of the teacher’s code I just broke?” He watched Junsu’s eyes fall in disappointment. “But the second one sounds better.”

Junsu scoffed. “I wouldn’t want you to face a moral dilemma.”

Yoochun leaned up and kissed him. “I faced that after class tonight, but don’t worry. I made the right decision.”

Their eyes met, and then Yoochun grinned. “Come on. Let’s go take a shower.”

Junsu slid off the bed and stood. Yoochun’s breath caught and he reached out and traced the curve of Junsu’s ass.

Junsu grinned down at him. “Fetish?”

Yoochun cupped the mound of flesh. “Maybe just a small one.”

-♥-

The next week, Yoochun deigned an invitation to go to Junsu’s. “I have to grade your essays. Call me tomorrow.”

Junsu nodded. He looked around to make sure they were alone, and then kissed Yoochun quickly. Yoochun watched him walk away and then had to shake himself. Oh yes, he had a fetish. A Junsu’s ass fetish. They’d been together every day. Almost every night. And with every round of sex, they grew more in sync, more compatible, lying together, laughing, chatting. They spent hours arguing over music, and Yoochun finally showed Junsu the heart wrenching lyrics from the song he’d played in class. Though this early in their relationship, Yoochun refused to talk about the situation behind them.

He put the hard copy of Junsu’s essay at the bottom of the pile. He knew that if he read it first, every student was going to be compared to him. The essays were dull. Some of the music choices weren’t even what Yoochun had said. He sloughed through them.

After midnight, he finally came to Junsu’s.

He flipped open the e-mail and downloaded the mp3 of the two songs Junsu had analyzed. But instead of music, Junsu’s voice said, “Don’t be mad. I downloaded this while you were sleeping.”

And then what followed were the opening notes of one of Yoochun’s songs.

“You little fucker,” Yoochun muttered.

The next song was one that Yoochun recognized, too. He’d woken up alone one morning, but heard notes carrying through his apartment. It had taken a moment to realize Junsu was playing his piano. He listened to the music for a few minutes, and then it stopped. He feigned sleep when Junsu had come back to bed, but he never did forget that brief moment of melancholy notes from his incredibly happy lover.

He listened to them again, reading through Junsu’s essay on exactly what it was that the text books told him to write. But the last paragraph was why Yoochun gave him an A.

\-- Emotions are superficial. To the bearer, they signify the meaning of the single moment in time that you felt that way. To the listener, they signify the meaning of a reflection of that moment. To the musician, they signify the meaning of a series of moments. You can’t replicate that single moment in music. You can’t make a song feel the way you felt. Emotions are fleeting, like the perfect musical strain that disappears when you sit at your keyboard. They’ll always be with you, they’ll always help inspire you, but they don’t dictate who you are. --

Yoochun read it again.

And then he sent Junsu a text. ~~Come over. Now.~~

Junsu sent back a smiley face.

Yoochun attacked him when he came through the door. Their clothes were discarded in the entryway. They fell in a tangle of limbs on the living room floor, Yoochun unwilling to wait for the length of time it would have taken to get to the bedroom. Talking was limited to cries of each others’ name as Junsu again proved his prowess.

Hours later, as the sun rose against their skin, Junsu propped up on an elbow and kissed Yoochun lightly. “So what was that for?” Junsu asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

“What was what for?”

“Begging for my presence at one in the morning.”

“I didn’t beg.”

“You would have had I said that I wasn’t coming over.”

Yoochun frowned because he knew it was true.

“So?” Junsu prompted. He crawled back over Yoochun’s body, kissing his neck and collar bones and chest.

With a satisfied sigh, Yoochun wrapped his legs around Junsu’s body and Junsu slid into him once more.

“Falling in love. Creating moments,” Yoochun replied, breathless.

Junsu smiled. “Title of a new song?”

“No. If I ever write a song about you, it’ll be called ‘the bastard that got me fired.’ “

Junsu laughed. “I’m totally worth it.”

“You better be.”  
  


.


End file.
